Far Away
by Gemenied
Summary: Boyd's on a plane, crossing the Atlantic on an overnight flight. Being stuck in his seat, he hatches a plan for the future.


A/N: Last week I asked around for some writing challenge, because I had some time to kill which I could only spend writing. So, Teddy78 sent me the link to this song: "Far Away" by Nickelback. The ficlet is loosely based on it, but not a ficlet because I only listened to it once and didn't follow the lyrics as you would do. Still, thanks go to **Teddy78**, and to **Shadowsamurai83** for the beta and challenging me too.

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters, nor the show. Season 9 will decide, if I'd even want to. I also do not own the song, the lyrics or anything. I'm just playing around.

Rating: T

Summary: Did you ever take a trans-Atlantic flight at night. You have a lot of time to think while you try to ignore the other passengers. And so does Boyd.

**Far Away**

The cabin lights had been lowered to strengthen the impression of the night outside. It was a meagre attempt in the vain hope that the passengers would settle down and sleep to give the cabin crew some down time as well. A worthless hope considering the number of small children on board. Why people insisted on crossing the Atlantic with infants and toddlers, he'd never know. It seemed just too much hassle.

For his part, he couldn't settle. He wished for sleep, not only to get some rest, but also to calm his churning thoughts.

They were over Greenland now, still many hours from their destination, and even if he went out and pushed, things wouldn't progress any faster. The ironic part was that he didn't know in which direction to push.

There was no going back to where he had just come from and he wouldn't want to do it anyway, but what lay before him....

He dreaded the event as much as he anticipated it. It was overdue, had been for God knows how many years. The sheer number of opportunities - not missed, but ignored - was staggering. How many times had he closed his eyes to what was in front of his face? How many times had she swallowed and hidden her disappointment and hurt?

She had gotten so good at it that these days, he couldn't read a thing in her face. Her smiles seemed genuine, but she was a much better actor than he was. She wished him luck and probably meant it, but did she believe he was finding it? And what about hers?

To him, the realization had come when he started packing. It strengthened during the cab ride to the airport, which he had taken alone. The job was always in the way, after all. But with his state of mind, he wasn't bothered. His moment of clarity, as clichd as that sounded, hadn't given him a clear insight into his future. The future depended on too many different factors, not least of all her. But what he had known with absolute certainty during his solitary cab ride was that leaving here was good. It was also plain that he would not return. Once he landed, he'd have to make the call and admit to it, and he needed to do it before proceeding with his plans.

The plans for the future had only begun to form while he boarded this plane, but that didn't make it any less necessary to keep the proper order of things. He didn't want to hurt either woman. Neither deserved it, and while he didn't want to hurt the former, more importantly he didn't want to thwart any chance with the latter by not being entirely truthful.

And free.

If he went to her now, there couldn't be anything that might hold him back. Grace had never taken any bullshit from him and she could detect insincerity with her eyes closed.

A flight attendant passed by and exchanged his cup of water for a full one. No alcohol, though he almost craved a Scotch to calm his nerves. He was flying to the most nerve-wrecking conversation of his life, being nervous was an elementary part of it.

Of course, there was the possibility that the chat would not take place at all. In his head, he had played out every possible scenario of this conversation and in quite a few, it didn't even happen.

Chances were that she didn't want to and would not talk to him. A worse option was that she refused to open the door and see him. The worst case scenario, however, and he usually turned his mind away from it quickly, was that she was gone. Disappeared.

The thought made him choke on his water, cough until tears spilled out of his eyes. He probably looked like an idiot with his face flushed, breaths heaving, tears running down his cheeks and water patches all over the place. It was a good rehearsal, he assumed, for the upcoming conversation, which he probably wouldn't get through without making a fool of himself.

She wasn't one for theatrics, but after everything that had happened, just saying things wouldn't be enough to convince her.

He was serious, but she wouldn't believe it because he said so. A little more outward effort would be in order. She was a master of self-preservation, had to be with him around. So, if necessary, he would go down on his knees and beg, outside her house on the street...in the rain. If that was what it took, he'd do it.

The image made him smile ruefully - he'd look like an idiot and the embarrassment would not be lived down for years. If any of his colleagues saw him....

More important than how he'd looked would be how she'd look. He could picture her raised eyebrows; he could also picture either the serious set of her mouth or the incredulous laugh. What he couldn't imagine at all was the look in her eyes. They were always telling and he was fairly sure he knew all expressions, but this was new territory.

He was hours away from telling his best friend - his neglected best friend - that he couldn't live without her. More than that, that he didn't want to live without her. He wasn't sure he'd use the word love - it sounded too much, too soon - after too little and possibly too late. He wasn't a man who went around and told people he loved them. That might have been part of the problem, part of why this would be so hard and so important at the same time.

They had drifted apart - mainly his fault, he knew - their friendship becoming strained over time. It was disregard, ignorance, denial and neglect, and not all was due to Mel's death. He had pushed her away at a time when he needed somebody desperately; needed her, which she very well knew. Worse, though, she might have needed him too and he had ignored her.

That was the blow to their friendship, the many digs against her professional persona not even considered. The blow against her as woman - against the numerous moments of flirting, the unspoken desires and wishes, and the many dreams and fantasies she knew nothing of - had been Sarah. He knew it very well.

Despite seeing each other every day, they had drifted so far apart that he barely recognised what was still them.

Maybe it was realistic to expect that Grace would shut the door in his face, before she listened to what he had to say. From the way things had become between them, she couldn't remotely expect what he was about to do.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he leaned back in his seat and stared into the blackness of the night at ten thousand feet.

He was on the way to tell Grace that he was there to stay. He wouldn't leave her anymore. He would be the rock she could hold onto when times got rough. He wanted her to be the warmth and the strength in his life, more than she already was, but he wanted her to be so openly, without any carefully constructed concepts of a 'close friendship' that had long ago ceased to be as little as that.

He needed, wanted all that she had to offer. Strength, warmth, trust, challenge. And the love.

Boyd knew it was there, in her for him - and he knew that it was love in him as well. He wouldn't say it out loud, not yet anyway. He was a man of action and he'd show his love, rather than just give it words.

So, he would tell her that he was back to stay, not only in London, but in her life and in her heart. And then, he would simply do it.

Giving a grateful nod to the flight attendant, who collected his empty water cup and helped him place a blanket over himself, he angled his body slightly to stare out of the window. He'd be stiff as a log tomorrow. Age did not entirely forgive such cramped spaces, and it could put a serious dampener on his plans of declaration, especially the kneeling part.

But every mile this plane travelled reduced the distance to Grace, so who was he to complain?

As he slipped slowly into a restless sleep, his mind filled with images of Grace's breath warm on his neck and her arms enfolding him. And holding him very, very close.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story. Comments would be greatly appreciated.


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